correctly because this was an hour her eyelids preferred to stay closed.
She pulled up to the hangar and parked her parents’ vehicle. The large building was well-lit at all hours, but Jess’s eyes resented the brightness and she muttered complaints as she stumbled up the ladder-like stairs of the ship’s interior. She supposed Crusty would be found in here, somewhere, and she felt a bit grumpy that he hadn’t specified where she was to meet him.
The ship had a different feel to her, in the middle of the night, as if it was at its most alive somehow. Jessamyn considered the idea, but rejected it as not quite right. What she felt, humming through her bones, was more like the alive-ness of every person she’d spent time with aboard the Galleon. This ladder buzzed with the memory of talking Ethan down it when the ship had landed upon the Isle of Skye. While she awaited the airlock cycle, she recalled Harpreet’s patience waiting here beside her. And in the shallow hall that ran forward to aft, Jess remembered Kipper sending her to her quarters after the ship’s launch.
The memories pressed upon her like small bruises to the soul. She shuddered as she called aloud for Crusty.
“Hey, kid,” said Crusty, emerging from the rations room as though her pre-dawn appearance were the most natural thing in the world.
She half expected, as she rounded the threshold with Crusty, to see Kipper, Harpreet, and Ethan awaiting her for morning rations. Instead of her crew, she saw a man. Brushing nostalgia aside, Jess tried to decide if the stranger looked familiar.
“This better be good,” she muttered to Crusty, collapsing into her regular chair at the rations table.
“Jessamyn, meet Cavanaugh. We was friends at the Academy,” said Crusty.
Jess nodded but didn’t lean forward to shake hands. Cavanaugh looked about her father’s age. His skin had the slightly shiny appearance Jess associated with the use of heat-healers. Why was he trying to look younger than his age? Was he a broadcaster?
Cavanaugh cleared his throat. “I wonder if you have a moment to discuss your immediate future?”
She shot a look to Crusty that said something like, You’re kidding, right? Then she returned her gaze to Cavanaugh. “Normally at this hour, my immediate future would involve snoring or drooling.”
“I’m Cassondra Kipling’s brother,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, her brows raising in surprise. “I’m pleased to meet you. Or, well, I’d be more pleased if it were day. Sorry. I’m not at my best this early.” She glared at Crusty once again.
Crusty laughed softly.
“Wait a minute,” said Jess, examining Cavanaugh’s smooth face. He was familiar. “Did Mei Lo send you?”
“The Secretary?” asked the man, one eyebrow raised. “No. Why do you ask?”
Jessamyn couldn’t determine the precise nature of the emotion he’d held back when she asked if Mars’s CEO had sent him for her. She decided not to hold it against him. It might have been merely surprise.
“I recognize you,” she said.
Now she knew the emotion upon his face. Alarm.
“From the fire,” she continued. “You’re the man from MCC who interviewed me after the Rations Storage disaster.” She smiled to set him at ease. Why was everyone so edgy and apologetic around her?
“I did, indeed, have the honor of meeting you that day for the first time,” said Cavanaugh.
“Kipper was your sister?” asked Jess, her voice softer now.
His brows drew slightly together. “I prefer to say that she is my sister. Her wellbeing is what brought me here today. I hope—that is—her family hopes that you might assist us in bringing her home now while there’s still time.”
“Me?” asked Jessamyn. The hope in his voice grated upon her like sand in a raw wound.
Cavanaugh’s eyes darted from hers to Crusty’s. “We want to take a ship to Earth. But we need someone to pilot and maintain the ship.”
“Who’s we?” asked Jessamyn, chills running up and down her arms.
“I’d prefer not to identify anyone beyond myself at present,” Cavanaugh replied.
Jessamyn’s eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you talking to the Secretary General about this?”
“The Secretary has made it clear no rescue operation can be sent at the moment. She’s denied the possibility. But anyone can see the Galleon’s in fine shape—”
“No,” said Jessamyn, shaking her head slightly. “Not just anyone can see that. Crusty, what have you been telling Cavanaugh here?”
Crusty shrugged, looking off to one side.
Cavanaugh jumped in. “It’s clear the Secretary is using the ship’s condition as an excuse when the real reason for her hesitation is a reluctance to engage